


One of These Things Is Not Like the Others

by soleta



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcshep_match, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-24
Updated: 2008-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soleta/pseuds/soleta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the team is abducted on a routine mission, John is presented with more complications than anyone could have foreseen. Set during season three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of These Things Is Not Like the Others

John looked up sharply when he heard footsteps approach the door to his cell. As far as he could tell, they were the only prisoners in this block. He didn't know what to make of that, though, or why – they could be political prisoners, maybe, or fucking _anything_ , but it left little doubt in his mind as to who they were coming for.

He looked across the featureless hall at the door standing opposite. Rodney stood there, angled to look down the corridor toward the footsteps, but the opening in the door was so small that John could only see his left eye and the side of his nose.

"Hey," John hissed. "Get out of sight. I'm going to - " He raised his eyebrows significantly, hoping Rodney would get the message. It wasn't like this was their first time.

Rodney rolled his eyes and jerked away just as two men approached their doors. Their footsteps rang clearer as they approached his cell; John tucked himself into the corner behind the door and got ready to jump anyone stupid enough to fall for something that predictable.

The first guard was beefy in a way John associated with professional football players; it wasn't something he often saw in Pegasus – they didn't have the agricultural base to feed people the way that Earth could. John winced a little. It was just his fucking luck.

He let the guards step inside, hoping for even a second of lead time while they checked the rest of the cell for a vanishing man. He was already jumping onto the big guy's back when he realized that they hadn't seemed to need it, and as John's hands instinctively went for the neck-snapping grip, he felt a tiny, needle-sharp bite in his side and everything was going black in a big fucking hurry.

 _Shit_ , he thought before he went under.

* * *

Rodney saw them leave; one of the guards had Sheppard slung over his shoulder like a sack, and Rodney froze until he saw Sheppard's chest move, very slightly.

Not dead was good. He could work with not dead.

He pulled back to the side of his cell door until the guards passed; just to be safe, he waited a few more minutes, until he was sure they weren't coming back. "Teyla?" he asked softly.

"What is happening?" Teyla said immediately, the worry clear in her voice. They'd put her in the cell to his left; logically, that left Ronon across from her, next to Sheppard.

"They took Sheppard," Rodney said, his voice tight. He suppressed the momentary urge to kick the door. "Ronon?"

"Yeah."

Rodney manfully resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he allowed himself one more look down the hall where the guards – and Sheppard – had disappeared.

"Do either of you recognize them?" he asked.

"No," Teyla said after a moment. "I do not recognize their clothing."

"I don't recognize them either." Ronon was impatient, from the sound of his voice, and Rodney winced. That was never a good thing. "It doesn't matter who they are. We need to get out of here."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Rodney demanded. He stepped back and took a long, slow look at his cell door. His captors had been unkind enough to build the hinges on the outside of the door, which was a long slab of metal – steel, he thought – with just enough of a gap at eye-level to let in a little light.

The cell was small, obviously meant for one person; there was one bed, a blanket, and a rudimentary toilet. It was positively palatial compared to some of the jails Rodney had been in over the last several years, but that didn't mean he wanted to _stay_ there.

"Anything?" he asked, drifting back to the door. At least they could talk to each other. They – whoever _they_ were – had taken everything except the clothes on his back, including their radios. Rodney felt practically naked without his tablet.

"No," Teyla said after a minute. "Nothing. But we must be prepared. They must make a mistake, and when they do –"

"We'll be ready," Ronon said, his voice hard.

* * *

John groped toward consciousness; when he finally got his eyes open, he immediately closed them against the blinding overhead light.

He could hear people moving around, could hear quiet voices and the clink of objects against each other; there was a smell he couldn't place, something that reminded him of antiseptic, if antiseptic could rot.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Someone leaned over him, blocking the light he could still see through his eyelids. "Are you all right?

"Just taking a nap," he murmured, keeping his eyes closed and subtly testing his wrists. They weren't bound. Either it was a mistake or –

"Please don't bother to fight," another voice warned him. It was deeper and hard in a way the other one hadn't been. John wished they'd turn off the damn light already. He turned his head to the side and opened his eyes again, carefully, wincing a little despite himself. It hadn't been his imagination – it was ridiculously bright in here. He could see several people-shaped figures moving around, but his eyes were still a little blurry.

"How are you feeling?"

John sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the slab, then held very still as a ball of nausea lodged in his throat. "Peachy," he said, forcing a smirk. "Thanks for knocking me unconscious, I'd hate to go a whole day without it."

To his surprise, the guy laughed, low and rumbly in his chest. "I apologize, Colonel Sheppard. I'm sure this is… inconvenient for you, at the least. I'm sorry that it's necessary."

John's vision was clearing slowly, too slowly for his limited patience. He could see who he was talking to, a large, dark shape several feet in front of him, but still, nothing was clear. He rubbed his eyes with sharp, jerky movements. "And why is it _necessary_?" He raised his head and aimed a glare at the figure. "You could have asked."

"Not for this," the other man said, and the humor in his voice didn't preclude a chill from running down John's spine. There was something in his voice, an amused certainty, that wasn't reassuring in the least. "Is your vision clearing?"

"Not yet," John admitted after a moment.

"Then we'll wait. It shouldn't take long, and I do so want you to see what's so important."

 _Great_ , John thought. His captor's openness was a little unnerving. Eventually the room came into focus around him, bit by bit. His captor stood across from him, leaning against a low cabinet. He was human-shaped, with light hair and eyes and pale skin; he looked vaguely Nordic. John's attention was immediately captured by the palm-sized disc in the man's hand. It was totally unfamiliar, but from the way he was holding it John could guess what it was. It had to be some kind of weapon.

He was smiling.

"I'm Counsellor Kaitic," he said, pushing off the cabinet he'd been leaning on, the weapon in his hand never wavering. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Colonel Sheppard."

"Yeah, you too," John said warily. He clung to his sarcasm like it was his last bullet; it was all he had left, that and his talent for getting out of trouble.

Kaitic gestured with his other hand toward the door of the tiny room. "If you'd be so kind?"

John took a long second, just to be a shit, but there really wasn't anything else to do, unless he was interested in testing out that unknown weapon – and he had to admit to his share of curiosity. He stood and walked through the door and into a long, long hallway, all angles and bright, sourceless light. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Kaitic gestured him to the left and began walking. "I would much rather show you," he said, and smiled.

* * *

Their guards appeared half an hour later with food. Judging from the noises coming from the hallway, both Teyla and Ronon had decided that this was an opportunity. Rodney smirked uneasily at the guard, who waited impassively, blocking the door with his shoulders.

The cell wasn't really big enough for two people. Rodney backed off a little, angling himself to see what he could see in the hallway over the guard's shoulder and through the opening. Unfortunately, that was literally nothing. He could _hear_ Ronon grunting and the impacts of fists on flesh, but he couldn't see a damn thing, couldn't help. All he could do was listen.

The guard standing between him and the closed cell door had a long baton hanging from his belt. Rodney couldn't stop looking at it and wondering – back home it would have been a stun baton, or a cattle prod, something to shock but no real damage done. Five thousand volts and some serious pain later, you were out for the count.

Suddenly the other cells were silent, and Rodney stared at the hallway, hoping against hope that Ronon or Teyla would come. If they'd managed to overpower their guards, or if even one of them had, maybe –

The door opened and Teyla came in low and fast, one hand shoving the door all the way open, the other closed in a fist headed for the guard's kidney. Rodney backed away hurriedly – he had no particular desire to be involved in the kind of fight this was likely to become. He'd seen what Teyla could do with her bare hands, and even though the guard seemed oddly unconcerned by the door opening behind him, he was big and beefy and vaguely frightening.

The guard, Rodney realized, hadn't been nearly as unprepared as he looked – he twisted to one side, dodging Teyla's fist almost entirely. Her blow clipped his side and threw her a little off balance, but she immediately threw herself forward into a tumble, using the momentum to get out of his reach. He was already reaching for the baton at his side when she swept her leg forward to knock his feet out from under him.

Ronon came around the edge of the door and took only a second to size up the situation. Grabbing the back of the guard's uniform, he slammed the guard into the wall, breaking his nose with a loud _crunch_. It took two more hits before the guy stopped struggling and Ronon dropped him unceremoniously on the floor.

Rodney took a breath and stared for just a second. "It took you long enough," he said when he got his equilibrium back. "Let's go."

* * *

Kaitic took John down a long, twisty maze of hallways. Sometimes John thought he saw lights out of the corner of his eye, lights moving in the walls with a purpose, but when he turned his head to check, there was nothing. He quickly learned to stop looking, because every time Kaitic would pause with obvious, irritating patience.

Kaitic was a mystery. Every question John put to him was shrugged off, or deflected with no more than a few words. After a while he gave up and worked on a mental map of their journey in his head. It was harder than it should have been. According to his map, they were doubling back on themselves over and over, but either the geography of the building was strange, or the hallways were rearranging themselves when they thought no one was looking.

John decided that he really wanted to think about something else. He'd been mulling over the possibilities since he'd woken up in his cell, but he still wasn't sure what they wanted. Kaitic had made no demands, which suggested that whatever it was, either John wasn't in control of giving it to them or he had sufficient resources to take it without John's consent or participation. Neither of those options were particularly reassuring for their overall chances.

It could have been worse, though. They'd been captured before by people who weren't above hurting Rodney, or Teyla, or Ronon. John held on to that thought. It was a lot better than thinking about the odds. He'd jumped people with a weapon trained on him before, and the results had almost never worked out for the best. That didn't mean he wouldn't try it again, but the unknown factors kept weighing in. He had no idea where he was, where his team was, whether or not they were on a planet with a gate. The situation would change – John had no doubt of that. He'd just have to be ready when the time came.

"Ah," Kaitic said, satisfied. "Here we are." He stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall, in front of a door that looked just like every other door. Kaitic turned. "I know I've been secretive, Colonel, but I wanted to show you how important this is to us. I'm not sure I could tell you and have the same impact." His voice was different; the humor was abruptly gone, like it had never been.

"Well, if you're going to drag me all this way," John said pointedly, glancing at the door. "It seems only fair."

"Of course." Kaitic pressed his free hand to the side of the frame. The area glowed blue, then yellow, and the door opened with a _snick_. Kaitic entered first, but John hesitated, glancing down the hall the way they'd come. His mental map was good, but he wasn't sure he trusted it; the hallways were oddly deceptive, and he couldn't be sure he could get back. Even if he had been able to get back, he wouldn't know where to go from there. John turned back to the door, which waited patiently for him to enter. He couldn't see what was on the other side; it was dark and impenetrable, either from a lack of light or some kind of security field.

In the end, the hallway decided for him; the lights in the wall glowed a little brighter and lazily headed toward him, weaving up and down and across the floor. At the same time, both ends, far off in the distance, suddenly started contracting, rushing at him at a disconcerting speed.

John was getting the idea that the building had a mind of its own, and it wasn't particularly likely to let him wander loose.

He took a breath, and stepped through the door.

* * *

Rodney stared at Ronon's massive back as Ronon stuck his head around another corner. "Clear," Ronon said, moving into the intersection. "Which way?"

They had stripped the guards of everything, including their clothes, and locked them in the cells. None of them knew how long it would be before they were missed, or when the next set of guards were going to check their cells, so they had to move fast.

The problem was that none of them had any idea where they were, or how to get out; they'd been carried in unconscious. Logic dictated that they should find an outer wall of the building and trace it to a door, any door. Unfortunately, the building they were in wasn't particularly helpful in that regard. They hadn't found a single window, and the directionless mood lighting hurt Rodney's eyes.

Neither Ronon nor Teyla had mentioned Sheppard. They didn't have to. It wasn't likely that they were going to be able to find Sheppard and make it out before they were found. Sheppard was amazingly able to facilitate his own escape, Rodney told himself. He had to hang on to that thought, and the image of Lorne's team riding to the rescue.

"I don't know," Rodney admitted harshly. He looked around at the intersection, which was just like a thousand others they'd passed through. They were too similar to infer any direction, or pattern, and without data Rodney was just as lost as the next man. It wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed.

After a minute of thought, he sighed. "If we pick a direction and follow it, we have to find the external wall eventually."

Teyla spoke behind him, her voice clouded with worry. "We must hurry, before the alarm is raised."

"Then let's go," Ronon said, heading left with Rodney and Teyla in tow. They hurried off too fast to notice the hallway close in behind them.

* * *

The minute he stepped through the door, John's eyes stopped working. The blackness was complete; there was no difference between having his eyes open or closed. John kept moving forward, hesitantly, with an arm out in front of him in case he started to walk into anything. The space in front of him felt empty and far more open than he had expected. It felt _big_.

Abruptly he stepped forward into bright, blinding light that burned his eyes before he quickly closed them. He could still see it through his eyelids, burning images of his veins onto his eyeballs.

"My apologies, Colonel." Kaitic's cool voice spoke somewhere in front of him, echoing. A moment later, the brightness dimmed enough that John risked opening his eyes.

Now he could see. He just wasn't sure he could believe what he was seeing.

John was standing in some kind of huge bay. The ceiling disappeared into mists far, far above his head; he could make out currents and eddies, like the damn place had its own _atmosphere_. It had to be miles wide, although John couldn't begin to estimate how many – he was completely out of his frame of reference. At the opposite end John could just make out a door that ran the entire width of the bay. Between him and the door were the skeletons of leviathan ships in every stage of completion, in every size and shape. Some had a form and a function that John could work out, but many were completely strange to him, like they didn't follow the laws of physics he understood.

There was something… _off_ about the ships. Sure, they were strange and alien, but John was slowly getting used to the idea that aliens had different ideas about ship design. It was the feeling that there was far, far more than was readily apparent to the naked eye; when he looked away from the ships, sometimes he got a flicker in the corner of his eye, like there was something disturbing just out of his vision. The ship's dimensions seemed to extend in a direction somewhere to the right of normal space. Every time John tried to focus on it, his stomach roiled.

"Welcome to our shipyards," Kaitic said, appearing at John's side, weapon in hand. He looked different, weird the same way the ships were, and John swallowed hastily.

"That's a nice trick," John said, keeping his eyes firmly away from anything he didn't want to see. "Do you do parties?"

Kaitic laughed, but John was pretty sure it wasn't at anything he'd said. "Colonel, you are a delight."

"Thanks," John snapped. He took a breath to steady himself, then turned and looked at the nearest ship again. It was very still – in fact, John couldn't see a single person in the entire bay, but he was almost sure that there was a little more to the ship than there had been a minute ago. He wasn't really sure he wanted to think about who – or what – was building them. "Are you finally going to tell me what the hell you want?"

"Yes," Kaitic said simply, and started walking toward the ship. John quickly followed. "We want your Lantean gene."

John frowned. "You want my _gene_?"

"Yes," Kaitic said. "As I'm sure you can see, we're building a fleet." He looked around the giant shipyard, smiling faintly. Proudly. "Very rapidly now, we're approaching the point where it will be finished, and we will leave this space, never to return."

"Great," John said, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. " _Bon voyage_."

Kaitic laughed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry to say that it isn't that simple."

"No," John said sarcastically. "There's a surprise."

Kaitic laughed, the only thing he seemed to be able to do without that underlying sense of menace. "Your sense of humor is quite delightful, Colonel."

"Thanks. Mind telling me exactly what you want my gene for?" John raised his eyebrows.

"Not at all." Kaitic waved his free hand at the ship they were rapidly approaching; in fact, approaching too fast. John could have sworn it was at least four football lengths away from their original position, but a minute's walk had brought them nearly to the first ladder. "We were seeded on this world by the Lanteans many, many years ago, like many of our cousins. Quite coincidentally, there is a flaw at this world's core – nothing serious, of course, or the planet would have exploded long ago, much to our detriment." He shrugged. "It was enough, however, to subtly… alter us. Long-term exposures to the effects of the Gap produce abnormal effects on the human mind. We think differently than our human cousins."

John caught himself on the verge of taking a step backward. "So you're mutants."

Kaitic didn't seem offended. "You could certainly say that. We prefer to call it something else, of course."

"Of course," John said, but Kaitic took no notice of the sarcasm.

"Our science developed from that difference. We are leaving, Colonel Sheppard." Kaitic's eyes lit, fired by a strange enthusiasm. "There is no limit, no boundary we cannot cross, and nothing we cannot learn."

"That's fantastic." John stopped, digging his hands into his pockets. "I'm still not clear on where I come in."

"It's the simplest part, Colonel," Kaitic said, returning to his usual calm, amused tone. "No one has ever surpassed the Lanteans in navigations and stellar cartography. We can replicate their technology, but we need an operator. The changes the Gap produces in our population eradicated our version of the gene long ago."

" _That's_ what you want me for?" John asked, stunned. "That's it?"

"That's it," Kaitic agreed.

"You could have just asked." John was abruptly furious. "You didn't have to _kidnap_ us!"

"Of course we did." Kaitic signaled to someone beyond John. "You would never have agreed to this."

Suspecting a trap, John whirled, stepping to the side to make sure Kaitic and his mystery weapon weren't directly at his back, and came face to face with – himself.

* * *

"This is too easy," Ronon said.

Rodney sighed. "You think this is easy?"

"Ronon is correct," Teyla said from behind Rodney. "We have heard no alarms, and yet it has been hours since our escape. Where are the guards?"

"Maybe they haven't been found yet," Rodney pointed out, but he knew they were right. This had all the signs of a trap. He shrugged. "What are we going to do about it?"

Teyla looked at Ronon, who mimicked Rodney's shrug. "Nothing," she said at last. "Because there is nothing we can do. Nevertheless, we must be cautious," she warned.

Rodney smirked. "Am I ever anything but?" He looked over his shoulder at Teyla, who smiled at him; not for the first time, Rodney was struck anew at how strange it was that she actually liked him. She didn't seem like a masochist.

Ronon cautiously put his head around the next corner, and the hand not holding the baton grabbed Rodney's wrist. Ronon pulled him forward and around the corner to face left, down the empty hallway.

There was a window. Rodney had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

When they got closer, they could see out the window. The scenery was pastoral, with green grass and chirping birds, and Rodney suddenly feared that it was an illusion, that they would never get out of this maze of doors and hallways, but when they got to the end, there was a door down the right-hand corridor. It was grey rather than the quietly luminous doors they'd passed on the way, and the frame was thicker. With his heart in his throat, Rodney approached the door, Teyla and Ronon right behind him.

Rodney looked the door up and down, but there wasn't a handle or knob in sight. "Now, if I were a latch," he said to himself, "Where would I be?"

The correct answer was, of course, in plain sight. Apparently the designers of the building didn't agree, but at that moment a card reader formed on the doorframe, halfway up the right-hand side.

"Huh," Rodney said. "Telepathic doors."

He pulled one of the guard's key cards out of his pocket and slid it through. The door opened, and Rodney found himself face to face with Sheppard.

"Perfect timing, as always," Sheppard said, backpedaling rapidly. "Come on, we have to go."

"John!" Teyla gave Rodney a little push to get him going. He'd been staring, and he shook himself a little as the team started moving. Sheppard set a fast pace directly away from the building – compound, Rodney realized as he looked over his shoulder. There were a lot of buildings. It was a minor miracle that they'd found their way out.

"Are you all right?" Teyla asked Sheppard.

"I'm fine," Sheppard said, waving off her concern. "They hadn't gotten to the beatings and medical experimentation yet."

Rodney snorted. "That was remarkably good timing on your part."

Sheppard tossed a grin over his shoulder. "I thought so, too." Sheppard's grin warmed as he looked at Rodney just a little longer than he needed to. _What was that?_ Rodney wondered, then shook his head and put it away. There was no time.

"The gate?" Ronon asked. He wasn't even out of breath, Rodney noticed, disgusted.

"About two klicks straight ahead," Sheppard said, pointing. "There's a light guard, between two and four men."

Rodney blinked. "How did you find that out?"

"I asked politely," Sheppard tossed off, never losing a beat, but Rodney didn't miss the subtle way Sheppard twisted his hands to hide his slowly reddening knuckles. Rodney shrugged and concentrated on keeping up the pace.

* * *

John stepped back quickly, almost too quickly; he had to quickstep to keep his footing. "What the hell," he said, anger and confusion warring. "What the _fuck_ is going on?"

"Don't worry." His mouth was moving, and it was his voice, his little smirk, his body language, it was _him_ standing across from him. "Nobody is going to hurt you, John."

"Shut up," John said, too freaked to be pleased that it came out without betraying his fear. "I'm not talking to you." He turned his back on himself, and pinned Kaitic with his best glare. "What the _hell_ is this?"

Kaitic shrugged. "I told you, we need your gene – and I'm not stupid, Colonel. I know I can't trust you." He gestured at the - _thing_ \- standing behind him. "I can, however, trust him. He's your perfect copy in every way, you know. He even has your memories."

John stared at Kaitic, nonplussed. "You can't do that." At Kaitic's politely raised eyebrow, John shook his head. "I mean it's _not possible_ ," he said, gesturing. "I've only been here a few days, and it has to be born and raised and – " Another thought struck him. "And you can't just transfer memories like – like computer files, for christ's sake. It's _impossible_!" Christ, he sounded like _Rodney_. In another situation – in any other situation – it would have made him laugh.

"Primitive science," Kaitic said, waving aside John's objections. "I should have known. It is possible, Colonel." He smiled, cold and full of satisfaction. "We perfected the method long ago."

 _Put it away_ , John told himself, but it was easier said than done. The precarious nature of his situation was crystal clear to him. "What happens now? And what about my team?"

"Please don't trouble yourself about them," Kaitic said, and signaled again. Ronon, Teyla, Rodney, and John sprang into life right in front of them, life-sized, but there was a strange flicker around their edges – a hologram? There was no sound, but they stood in front of a Stargate, the wormhole already activated. Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon each went through in turn, but John paused and looked straight through his unseen observers and smirked before stepping through the wormhole.

"That's happening right now, Colonel," Kaitic said. "Your team is safe and sound back in the Lantean city."

John swore as the impact hit him. God alone knew how many clones of him they had. Hell, he could be _mass-produced_ for all he knew.

Kaitic shook his head like he'd read John's mind. "Don't worry, Colonel. We're taking most of the copies with us." He smiled crookedly. "Excepting a few agents-in-place, of course. They're to be our navigators, you see."

"You fucking bastards," he growled, his vision going red. "You _assholes_ – " He took the chance, rushing Kaitic before he could get a shot off; the weapon clattered off somewhere into the distance as John used every inch of his reach to knock it away.

Wiping that goddamned smirk off Kaitec's face with his _fist_ was possibly the most satisfying moment of his life.

Kaitic braced and heaved, rolling John off to the side, but John grabbed his arm and swung himself up and over, kneeling directly over Kaitic, and drove his fist into Kaitic's face over and over again, doing his goddamned best to obliterate it.

"Stop."

John looked up at his clone. His clone, who held the weapon in his hand. "Or else what?" he asked with a sneer. He pulled back to continue his god-given mission of bashing Kaitic's _face_ in when his clone pulled the trigger, sending John's nervous system into screaming chaos. Through the pain, he was vaguely aware of seizing for an endless moment before he finally passed out.

* * *

Elizabeth sat on the edge of her desk, studying them each in turn. "You're all okay?"

"Yeah," Sheppard said, leaning back in his chair in his normal slouch. "Keller gave us the all-clear."

"Do you have any idea why these people wanted to kidnap you in the first place?" Elizabeth asked. "It's a little strange that they didn't mention anything."

"They didn't want _us_ ," Rodney said, sliding a glance over at Sheppard.

"Me," Sheppard admitted. "Again." He rolled his eyes and looked at Rodney, smiling wryly. "I should have a sign on my back."

Rodney wasn't the social genius of the year by any stretch of the imagination. But he thought he was picking up on all kinds of signals Sheppard was throwing at him, and it was – not that they weren't welcome, but it was very sudden and very, very strange. They were sparking all kinds of desires he thought he'd packed away.

"Not that you need it," Elizabeth pointed out. She looked at Sheppard curiously. "How did they capture you?"

"They got the drop on us," Sheppard said, shrugging. "They'd paid off the natives on M4X-338. They'd drugged our food at the welcoming ceremony." Sheppard grimaced, and Rodney knew exactly what he was thinking – the endless ceremonies were a major annoyance. "When we woke up, we were in separate holding cells. I can't even tell you what planet we were on."

"Then they drugged him again," Rodney put in, a little concerned. "One of the guards."

Sheppard shrugged. "I was trying to escape. In his place, I'd have done the same thing."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, questions reflected in her eyes. "You seem awfully accepting of all this."

"It's over," Sheppard said. He stretched his legs out and studied them with calculated avoidance. "Worrying about what might have happened isn't my idea of a good time." He looked at Elizabeth then, looked her straight in the eye. "I'm a little tired," he said. "Keller said that the drug was mostly already broken down in my system, but that I should sleep the rest of it off."

"Of course," Elizabeth said, waving her hand. She stood. "You're not going back on the mission rotation for the foreseeable future, Colonel. I think safety is the better part of valor here, at least until we know what's going on."

Rodney heartily approved, but Sheppard's nod of agreement was definitely _not_ what he expected. There was something strange, something off about Sheppard's reactions.

After the briefing, Rodney took the first turn heading toward his quarters. He thought he might swing by the mess hall for some food, and maybe it would be a good idea to check his desk to see what Radek had stolen while he was gone. Then it was time for a nap. He was exhausted.

"Hey, Rodney," Sheppard called from behind him.

Rodney paused and turned a little. Sheppard jogged up behind him, grinning. "Hey, are you going to get some lunch?"

"I was planning on it," Rodney said. He tilted his head. "Coming?"

"Yeah," Sheppard said immediately. "I'm starving."

They fell into step, heading deeper into the complex. "I thought you told you were going to your quarters," Rodney said.

Sheppard smirked. "What Elizabeth doesn't know won't hurt her. And there are a lot of things she doesn't have to know." His grin widened a little, hovering close to intimate before Sheppard turned away to greet a passing Marine.

All the possible implications flashed through Rodney's mind, took a detour and picked up his repressions, and met up with his libido and had a brief, wild party.

"Huh," he managed after a minute. Rodney hadn't been aware that he could get hard quite that quickly.

"Yeah," Sheppard said absently, checking up and down the hallway before grabbing Rodney's wrist and hauling him into Power Room #2. "I'm going to have to insist that you do better than 'huh,'" he said, grinning over his shoulder at Rodney with wicked, delighted eyes as he did something to the control crystals.

"What are you doing?" Rodney asked, professional curiosity getting the better of him as he drifted forward to look over Sheppard's shoulder.

"Nothing important," Sheppard said, tapping the third crystal on the first once, then twice. He replaced the crystal and the cover. "But now we have twenty minutes before they can possibly get in here." He tugged Rodney in until he was between John and the wall. His smile was even hotter than it had been before, and as he leaned in to bite at Rodney's mouth, Sheppard said softly, "And I bet you fifty I can make you come twice in twenty minutes."

"I'm thirty-nine," Rodney snapped, but he couldn't keep the grin off his own face. "I'll take that action." He reached out with both hands and pushed aside John's jacket until he could get his hands under Sheppard's shirt. _Christ_ , he thought, _there wasn't a bonier man alive_ – he pulled Sheppard into a long, long kiss, all tongues and teeth and _need_.

And it was – Rodney bucked a little, trapped between Sheppard and the wall as John kissed him back hard, punishingly hard, but Rodney wasn't – god knew he wasn't complaining, because it was miles better than he had imagined it being, all those long, dream-filled nights he wouldn't even admit to himself -

John laid his fingers on the zip of Rodney's pants.

"Fuck," Rodney said helplessly.

Sheppard laughed. "Yeah," he said, and took Rodney's zipper down, down, painfully slow – if John was going to tease him, Rodney decided, he could at least return the favor, and he slid his hand down inside John's pants. He just laughed again, and it was kind of – it wasn't awkward, like he'd thought it would be, always assuming that he'd given any rational thought to _any_ of this –

Then Rodney finally, _finally_ had his hand around John's dick. "Yeah," John said, low in his throat, and braced both hands against the wall next to Rodney's shoulders, rolling their hips together. It was just – Rodney yanked his hand out of Sheppard's pants in favor of shoving them down just to get them out of the way. That was better, he discovered when John did it again. That was fucking amazing. But apparently neither one of them was that good at sharing control, because their rhythms were completely off, which was making this more frustrating than he wanted.

Rodney swallowed hard and grabbed John's hips, stopping him for a second. He almost laughed at the sullen look on John's face. "Hey," he said, weirdly moved to reassure. "Come here." Sheppard was fast on the uptake - he got the idea almost immediately.

It was pressure, it was heat, it was _glorious_. "That's – " Rodney swallowed. "Yeah." He knew he was speeding up despite himself, lost in the sweaty, stuttering slide of cock on cock. John had his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open as he panted, and Rodney thought, _he'll look like that when he blows me_ , and that was it, Rodney was done, coming like a fucking earthquake. He sagged against the wall, trying to catch his breath, and he barely noticed when John stiffened and came all over him.

They leaned against each other and the wall for support as they slowly came down. "Well," Rodney said. "This certainly wasn't what I was expecting when I woke up this morning."

John snorted, his head still drooping against Rodney's. "Happy birthday." There was something weird in his voice, though, and Rodney nudged John's head up until he could see John's eyes.

They were fine, clear and a little crinkly around the edges, but – "Are you okay?" Rodney asked carefully.

Sheppard backed off, brushing futilely at his uniform. Some stains never came out. "Yeah," he said after a second. "I – It's been a long time."

Rodney snorted. "Me, too." He looked down at his clothes and sighed. "I wish Atlantis had dry cleaners."

"Sorry," John said, smirking.

Rodney made a point of looking at his watch. "You have twelve minutes left," he said.

He lost in the end, but for the first time in his life, Rodney was perfectly happy to lose.

* * *

John woke in the same room as before, bound hand and foot to the same damn table. He hadn't liked it before, but now the antiseptic, all-pervasive white room gave him the creeps.

His clone was sitting beside his bed, stunner in hand. They stared at each other for several minutes, and John had no trouble interpreting the subtle changes of expression – after all, they were _his_. There was worry, which surprised him, and anger, and a large dose of fatalism.

"What are you doing?" John asked when he couldn't stand the silence anymore.

His clone shrugged. "I volunteered to stand guard."

"I'm surprised he didn't have you kill me out of hand."

"Once they've made sure that our genetic material is stable, Kaitic will have you terminated," his clone said. He was making an effort to keep his voice composed, but his face was unhappy. "We have an unfortunate tendency toward cancers. Until then, you're still a valuable asset."

"At least I got to punch that asshole in his smug face," John said, reflecting. It was a great memory, wiping that fucking smirk off Kaitic's face. He was pretty sure he'd broken the bastard's nose, too.

His clone hesitated. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I'm not going anywhere," John said, tugging lightly on the wrist restraints to demonstrate. They were solid, probably too solid to break. Not that he wouldn't try.

The clone opened his mouth, and then stopped. He got up, went over to the door and laid his hand on the wall next to it, bringing up something that looked like an access panel in lines of light. He disconnected several of the lines. "I've turned off the monitoring system," he said softly, retaking his seat. "It's only audio."

Something rose in John's chest, something that felt a little bit like hope. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to watch you die," his clone said, relaxing all at once when the words were out. He closed his eyes. "I don't want to watch me die. Us. Whatever you want to call it."

It wasn't something that had occurred to John, but as he looked at his clone, the man with his face and voice and memories, it made sense. "Then what are you going to do about it?" He made it a challenge, because that's what he would have needed. He thought.

The clone's face twitched into a smile. "I don't know, really. I was having a hard enough time overriding our obedience programming. It didn't leave me with a lot of time to think of a plan."

"Then let's plan something, before they come to knock down the door," John suggested.

* * *

Rodney had never had this much sex in his _life_. Not even during his stint in Siberia, where there had been nothing to do – _literally_ nothing to do – except drink and fuck.

"You've got to be a machine," he said later that day in his quarters. They'd just fucked in the shower and again on the bed, leaving Rodney out of breath and completely drained of energy. His cock wasn't on speaking terms with him anymore.

"You're complaining?" John asked idly, rolling over to stick his pointy nose into Rodney's neck. There might have been nuzzling involved; Rodney wasn't quite sure.

"Of course not," Rodney snapped. "It's just – " He shrugged. "This is all a little sudden, isn't it?"

When John laughed, Rodney could feel it all the way down his body; it was a novel feeling, and very distracting. "Nah," John said, and suddenly he bit down on Rodney's neck above the pulse point. "I've wanted to have sex with you for a while."

"Christ, you're like a rabbit," Rodney said in dismay, stiffening. "Seriously, no, I need food. And sleep. And I think I sprained my back that last time."

John sighed and rolled away, sitting up and planting his feet on the floor. "I should check in with Lorne, I think," he said, and started pulling on his pants.

Rodney watched him get dressed, questions bouncing around his mind that he had no intention of asking. Nothing about this felt right. John's behavior had been bothering him all day – at least, when he wasn't distracted.

When he was dressed and on his way out the door, John paused and turned back. He looked at Rodney questioningly. "I'll see you later?"

Rodney nodded and watched him leave. There was something – he couldn't put his finger on it. But he would. It was just a matter of time.

His radio, which had been hastily tossed aside on his desk, squawked. He swore and heaved himself out of bed. "What?" he snapped.

" _Rodney, it's Doctor Keller. Do you know where Colonel Sheppard is? He's not answering his radio._ "

Rodney started to answer, but changed his mind and lied through his teeth. "He said something about an emergency on the mainland. What's the problem?"

There was a long silence. " _Can you come down to the infirmary? I'd rather show you_."

Rodney didn't hesitate. "I'll be there in five minutes."

In three minutes he strode through the door. He spotted Keller immediately; she was standing by the main projection screen, studying the blow-up of someone's bloodwork.

"What is it?" Rodney asked, moving up beside her.

Dr. Keller bit her lip. "This is Colonel Sheppard's blood sample," she said, pointing at the screen. "I took it this morning when you were here for your check-up."

"Yes," Rodney said, impatient. "I know. I was there." He didn't really doubt that she had a point, but he couldn't see it yet; on first glance, the screen was filled with normal red blood cells.

Keller flushed. "Well, at first everything looked all right," she said. "He told me he had been drugged, and I saw that in his tox screen, but it was breaking down very quickly. I didn't see anything wrong there." She hit a key on her laptop, and a flashing outline surrounded several larger cells – white blood cells, Rodney thought. They were floating, seemingly aimlessly, through the other cells, but that wasn't quite right, Rodney realized. "But then I noticed how strangely his leukocytes are acting. Do you see it?" Keller asked.

"Yeah," Rodney said, fascinated despite himself. The white blood cells, instead of drifting randomly through the specimen, were actually following a path that would take them past every cell on the screen; as they approached each cell, one would rest on it briefly, then flashed _blue_ before detaching itself and continuing on its way. "What are they doing?"

"They're scanning every cell in his body," Keller said, her eyes glued to the screen. "I think they're linked together somehow, because they don't waste any effort scanning cells that have already been checked." Her voice was half-admiring, half-horrified; it brought to mind Carson's macabre interest in the Wraith, and the swell of grief was so familiar it was almost comforting.

They watched the cells moving around the screen for several minutes without speaking; it was hypnotizing, the steady progress they made across the screen as they scanned every cell in the sample. Sometimes the white cells would pause on a cell for longer instances, but in the end they always flashed that same blue. "Can you find out what they're doing, what they're looking for, and how?" he abruptly asked Keller.

She nodded. "They're running through the DNA sequencer right now," Keller said, checking the status on her laptop. "You'll know as soon as I do."

"They could be doing anything to him," Rodney said, the implications sinking in. He could _feel_ himself go numb, and any other time it would have been interesting. "There's no way they're not in his brain. It would explain – " He stopped himself with an effort, but it wasn't soon enough. Dr. Keller tilted her head.

"Have you noticed any unusual behavior?"

 _He fucked me into the mattress half an hour ago_ , Rodney didn't say.

Instead, he asked, "Have you told Dr. Weir?"

"Not yet," Keller replied, and for the first time, Rodney noticed how _young_ she was. She was two steps away from wringing her hands, for god's sake, and this was one thing Rodney didn't have time to deal with –

One of the white blood cells on the display was currently nestled in the shallow concave dish of a red blood cell. It flashed: _red red red_ , blinking faster and faster the longer it was attached. Rodney watched disbelievingly as an army of white descended on the unfortunate red cell, as they sucked the life out of it and left it a grey, wrinkled husk.

"Jesus," Dr. Keller said softly.

Rodney swallowed once, hard. "Update Dr. Weir, now. I'll find Sheppard, but it's _your_ job to keep him alive," he said, poking a finger at her. "I expect a miracle by the time I get back."

Before Keller could say a word, Rodney had wheeled around and was on his way out of the infirmary. First stop, Teyla and Ronon, then the control room, where he could fill in everybody, all at once. Rodney knew better than to try and track a Sheppard in the wild, but any idiot could trace the subspace transponders.

Except, as it turned out, when they didn't exist.

"He's not there, sir," Chuck said, pointing at the screen. "I can eliminate every other person on the base by ID number – " A keystroke, and each and every one of the lights blanked out, leaving the map of Atlantis looking oddly lonely. "He's just not there, sir."

Elizabeth rested her hands on the edge of the console. "A malfunction."

Chuck shook his head. "These things are rated for three hundred years of continuous use, ma'am," he said. "The only way they malfunction is if you climb into a volcano."

"All right," she said, stepping back to pace. "That's a problem for another time, I'm afraid. Dr. Keller?" She raised her voice to be heard over the intercom. "Can you tell us anything else?"

" _Obviously, this isn't a natural phenomenon,_ " Keller said, her voice floating in midair. " _And whoever did this, they knew what they were doing. This is advanced medicine – they've rewritten his DNA all the way down to the proteins, and I don't know that I can put it right._ "

"You'll find something, Doctor. Keep working," Elizabeth said with quiet certainty. But Rodney could see the doubt in her eyes, the doubt he knew was reflected in his own. She cut the connection manually. "Find him," she said to Ronon and Teyla. "Find him quickly."

Ronon nodded and headed down the control room stairs immediately, but Teyla paused to reassure Elizabeth. "We will find him," she said. Given that it was Ronon and Teyla, Rodney believed it.

When they were gone, Elizabeth turned to Rodney and pinned him with her eyes. "Get into the database," she said, and the previous calm was gone. "I want to know who these people are and where they call home. I intend to have a word with them." She smiled, slowly, coldly; Rodney was intensely glad that he wasn't her target right now. "A very pointed word."

* * *

"I think that's as good as it's going to get," John said. Regretfully, he put his feet down and got out of the very comfortable chair. "I never thought having five thousand clones would come in handy. At least I have a disguise."

His clone had given him the exact number of _copies_ in the compound. John had wondered if having an exact number would make things better or worse. He still wasn't sure.

Apparently the copies didn't need to be taught how to do what they did; instead of being trained on the equipment, they were used as light security and were allowed to roam in a narrowly delineated section of the overall compound, which, according to his clone, stretched over nearly a quarter of the planet called Denauros.

They were going to be able to make very good use of that particular fact.

"Are you ready?" John asked quietly.

"Yeah," his clone said. He managed a faint grin. "I was born ready." When John groaned, he just laughed. "I get it from you," he said mischievously.

"That doesn't make it _okay_ ," John pointed out, but he paused. "You should have a name," he said.

His clone thought for a minute. "What about Johnny?"

John grinned, oddly pleased. "The Man in Black."

Johnny stood. "If I don't come back – "

"I know the plan," John pointed out. "I came up with it."

"So long," Johnny murmured with a smile, and slipped out of the door. John settled back in his chair to wait, hoping against hope that he could trust himself not to get killed.

* * *

Rodney looked up when he heard the call over his radio. " _Dr. Weir, Rodney, this is Teyla. We have found Colonel Sheppard and are taking him to the infirmary._ "

"Acknowledged," Elizabeth said and turned off her radio. "Rodney?"

"Nothing yet," he told her. "I'm working faster than humanly possible, but I don't have a lot to go on."

"Can you leave that to run itself?" Elizabeth asked. Before she completed the question, he was setting the search to automatic and waving a technician over to his chair.

"Contact me the second you find anything," he told her, then followed Elizabeth down the control room stairs. They headed for the infirmary in silence.

They could hear Sheppard's voice before they even got through the door. He was arguing with Teyla and Keller, neither of whom seemed able to convince Sheppard that anything was wrong, even with the display set to replay the army of intelligent white blood cells.

"Elizabeth," Sheppard said, swinging around. "Tell them to let me go, dammit. There's nothing wrong with me."

"You may be right," Elizabeth said, raising her eyebrows. "But I'm not willing to take the chance. Has Dr. Keller explained the situation?"

"The _situation_ is that I've been kidnapped by my own team," Sheppard said, raising his voice and stabbing his finger at Ronon and Teyla. "Now, I've sat here and listened to this ridiculous story, and now I am _leaving_." He stood, using his height to glare down at Elizabeth.

 _That was a mistake_ , Rodney thought. And he knew that John understood that. Rodney drew back a little to let the scene play out without him. Something had occurred to him, something he needed a little more data to confirm.

He had his confirmation soon enough, from the various department heads who normally reported to Radek. Rodney couldn't let himself think about what it meant for him, but what it meant for Atlantis was bad enough. He called for security to the infirmary, then took a breath to steady himself before turning back to the argument.

"Stop," he said, interrupting Sheppard in midsentence. He stared at the thing masquerading as Sheppard – he couldn't keep his disgust off his face, didn't even try. "Who are you, and what have you done with Sheppard?"

"Rodney?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"That thing has been accessing the database all day," Rodney said, pointing at the imposter. "He's been copying everything he could get his hands on, and I can guess why."

Elizabeth went a little pale. "So can I," she said. "Many of them, none particularly pleasant. But why do you say this isn't our John?"

"The missing transponder," Rodney said. He could see two Marines out of the corner of his eye. They took posts at either side of the exit. It was a welcome distraction. "There's no cut or wound where it would have been removed. Therefore, he never had it in the first place. Therefore, that – " he glared at the thing with Sheppard's face. "That is not John Sheppard."

"I wasn't supposed to get that close to anyone," the thing said, wilting a little into John's – into Sheppard's usual crouch. "It wouldn't have mattered if you'd figured it out tomorrow."

"Why don't you answer Rodney's question," Elizabeth said, steel in her voice. "Who are you? And where is Colonel Sheppard?"

"I am Sheppard," it said, a ghost of humor in its voice. "Mostly. I'm a copy." It shook its head impatiently when they all stared at him. "A clone."

It made sense. It tracked, straight down the line. It also made Rodney sick, but that was something he was just going to have to deal with later. None of the others looked like they were taking the news particularly well, either; Keller, in particular, looked ill. Teyla quickly slicked calm over her face, but her eyes told the truth – she was worried.

Ronon circled around a little, making it obvious that his hand was already on the butt of his gun. He didn't look worried – he looked pissed. "Where's Sheppard?" he said slowly. His dark voice made the simple question the best kind of threat.

"Isn't it obvious?" Rodney snapped. "He's back on the planet."

"They kept him there. He's the original," the clone said. He looked a little sick himself. Rodney couldn't bring himself to care. "We're susceptible to cancers. Sometimes entire lines have to be scrapped and redesigned, and when that happens they have to take entirely new samples from the original."

Keller finally spoke up. "That's why you have these antibodies," she said, gesturing at the display. "They're cancer-killers."

"None of this matters," Elizabeth said abruptly. "I don't want explanations. I want answers. One answer." Stepping forward, she got into the clone's face. "If you don't tell me the address of your planet in the next thirty seconds, I will leave this room and lock the door." She glanced at Ronon, deliberately, then over at the marines. "Your time starts now."

* * *

John had two seconds of warning when the door opened, which was enough to get to his feet if nothing else. Luckily, the face that came in was his own.

"Did you get it?" John demanded.

Johnny held up a small box. "They didn't even ask why I wanted it." He smirked.

"Good," John said, satisfied. "Let's go, then. We can't have much time left."

They double-timed it through the halls, which weren't quite as menacing as John remembered. "They respond to you," Johnny explained. "Keep in mind where you're going, and you won't get lost. Don't pay any attention to them otherwise. It just gives them ideas."

John opted to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't help giving the wall on his left a hard, suspicious glare.

"Here," Johnny said, stopping at a door just like every other. He opened the box and took out a large handful of thin, white wires. "Take the left side. I'll take the right."

"Got it," John said, a little impatient. "Let's go."

Johnny pressed his hand to the right side of the door, which whooshed open. Johnny hadn't been sure whether there would be anyone in the lab at this time of day, which roughly translated into lunch; so they took it cautiously, checking every room before they were satisfied.

John's eyes kept straying to the glass-fronted cabinets that lined every wall of the lab. There were millions of samples, millions of people who had done nothing wrong. Their only crime had been having something the Denaurians wanted. He was aware that he was projecting a lot onto simple test tubes, but he was feeling used and abused and he was damn well going to take it out on _something_.

He chose his spots with care, affixing most of the wires to the bottom of the cabinets for maximum destructiveness and blast reflection. Johnny had assured him that there was enough explosive in one wire to take out an entire room, and John had no reason to doubt him, but they seemed tiny and lost in the expansive lab.

Johnny stopped at the door. "Hey, come on."

"Yeah," John said, allowing himself one backward look before he took off at a fast jog. They were behind schedule, mostly because of him.

"It's not far," Johnny said, keeping pace exactly. "This way." They turned right, then took the next left, and John overshot the mark when Johnny skidded to a halt in front of yet another door. He went back as Johnny opened the door to the shipyard.

John stumbled to a halt as the immensity of the bay hit him again. It was just too big for one mind to handle, and –

He felt like he'd been sucker-punched. To his left, in the only clear space remaining, were five thousand copies of his own face, standing in formation. Five thousand John Sheppards.

"They wanted to meet you," Johnny said quietly behind him. "We're not permitted to meet our creators, but in a few minutes the rules won't matter anymore."

It was the strangest feeling. John had always considered himself a bit of a loner, solitary by nature and by choice, especially before he came to Atlantis. He could count on one hand the number of people who had tried to understand him, and even fewer of them were still alive. But here, he was just one of a multitude of people who had the same face, the same thoughts, the same memories, who even preferred to dress the same way he did. He felt _welcome_.

"Hi," John said, then winced. But they would understand, wouldn't they?

"We don't have a lot of time," Johnny said. "They know what we're doing, and they'll run interference if we have problems."

"Okay," John said, backing up. "Okay." On impulse, he drew himself to his full height and snapped off a salute. Then he ran for it.

He concentrated on reaching the center of the room; Johnny had mentioned that it worked on the same principle as the halls. Psychic buildings sounded like a really bad idea to John, but it sure as hell helped, because they reached the center of the room sooner than should have been physically possible.

Here," Johnny gasped, throwing himself down onto his knees. John followed suit, already reaching for the cylindrical explosive he'd privately dubbed his own private Hail Mary. He held it steady as Johnny armed it and carefully, carefully brought out the small, round ball from the box of explosives. It went in the top.

"There," Johnny said, blowing his breath out in relief. "Done."

John started to let go, then swore and grabbed for the bomb as it started to tip over. He caught it just in time. "What the fuck," he said when he got his heart rate back under control. "How do you stabilize it?"

Johnny looked him square in the face, and just like that, John knew. "You don't."

"No," he said helplessly.

"There's no place for me out there," Johnny said.

John fought the instincts telling him that he needed to go. They didn't have time to argue. "We'll make one. Come on, there's no _time_."

"No," Johnny said, and signaled to someone behind John. Four pairs of hands grabbed him and yanked him away from the bomb, which Johnny caught in a quick hand, the same quick hand he'd used to catch footballs, popcorn, grenades –

"You can't," John said, almost pleading.

Johnny shrugged. "Someone has to." He kneeled and held the bomb steady on the ground, then looked up. For once, John couldn't read his face. "You have to go." He nodded to the clones who held John, and they dragged him away, locking him in a wrestler's pose he'd learned in high school, and his last view of Johnny was of him kneeling quietly on the floor, his head bent, like he was praying. Maybe he was.

The clones dragged John far away and almost sat on him until he got a grip on himself. As soon as their grips loosened, he knocked one on his ass and ripped himself away from the others. He ran as fast as he could toward the center of the room, holding that image in his mind, trying to remember whether Johnny had said how long the fuse was, or how big the blast radius was likely to be –

Something hit him on the back of the head. John passed out, kicking and screaming inside his mind the entire way.

When he woke up, the cavalry was there.

"John?" It was Teyla's voice, Teyla's face leaning over him. He had never been happier to see anyone in his life. "John, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," John lied. His head was killing him. He sat up with a wince. Rodney was there – thank god, no one knew bombs like Rodney – and Ronon, and Lorne and Michaelson's teams. They were all armed to the teeth. "Good," he said, looking at them each in turn. "Did you bring puddlejumpers? There are five thousand civilians that need to be evacuated. There's a bomb set in the compound. It's going to blow any minute."

"John," Teyla said, interrupting his train of thought. He nearly snapped at her before he saw the piece of paper in her hand. "The ones who brought you here – they told me to give you this."

There was something like pity in her eyes.

 _John –_

 _Get off the planet. I lied to you. This bomb isn't just going to take out the shipyard. It's a planet killer. This planet will be nothing but rubble by the time I'm through. If you don't leave now, you're going to die, and then there will be nothing left of us._

 _Don't do anything crazy. Johnny_

John raised his eyes and looked at his team. He didn't have to ask whether they'd read the note – he could see it on their faces. "Sheppard," Rodney said, crouching to an awkward half-kneel. "There's nothing you can do."

John closed his eyes. "I know," he said. It was hollow comfort.

"Come on," Rodney said, getting to his feet with a wince and holding his hand out. "Let's go home."

* * *

It had been three weeks since John's not-so-triumphant return. He'd gotten the all-clear from Dr. Keller two weeks ago; Rodney knew because he'd pestered Keller into giving him regular updates. Sheppard was never going to tell him of his own volition, Rodney reasoned, and he needed to keep an eye on his team, didn't he?

Elizabeth hadJohn on light duty, which meant paperwork. Rodney knew for a fact that John was shuffling most of it off on Lorne and spending the rest of his time beating up hapless Marines in the gym. It didn't seem particularly healthy to Rodney, but,so who was he to say?

They hadn't spoken more than a few words since. It didn't surprise Rodney in the least that he was missing John more when they saw each other every day than he did when John had been kidnapped. And –

Rodney swore at himself, staring at the ceiling above his bed. He was emphatically _not thinking about it_. Except that he was, he was thinking about it every second of every day, because now he knew what he was missing.

He jerked in surprise when the knock at the door came, hitting his head on the wall and making him swear. Rodney stomped over to the door, ready to snap at whoever was interrupting his precious free time.

Of course, it was Sheppard. He was leaning against Rodney's doorframe, smirking just a little. Rodney scowled. "Yes, Colonel?"

"Can I talk to you?" Sheppard looked down the hall meaningfully. "Inside?"

"Only if you make it quick," Rodney said with ill grace, standing back to let Sheppard inside. He knew how he sounded. It only made him scowl harder. He folded his arms across his chest. "How can I help you?"

Sheppard rubbed his hand on his thigh. Rodney had seen him do it before; it was a nervous habit, and for the life of him Rodney couldn't think of anything Sheppard had to be nervous about. Unless… Rodney knew that Elizabeth, at least, had figured it out – how had he known the clone hadn't had a scar? Suddenly suspicious, Rodney backed up a little and sat down at his desk. "Yes?"

"I was just wondering." Sheppard scratched the back of his head. "It seems like… well, like you've been avoiding me since the whole, you know." He shifted. "That last mission."

Rodney blinked. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been _that_. "Why would I be avoiding you?" he asked, frankly baffled.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Sheppard said.

Rodney brought back the last two weeks, flipping through them like a book. He'd ducked out of their lunches, but there was a lot of work he needed to catch up on, and Radek could only be expected to do so much. He hadn't been attending the departmental meetings, either, but Sheppard never went to those in the first place, and –

 _Oh_ , Rodney realized.

"I guess I have," he admitted. "I didn't realize it."

Sheppard looked at him strangely. "You weren't doing it on purpose? It sure looked that way."

Rodney sat up straight. "I'm a very busy man, Colonel," he said simply.

Sheppard didn't seem to be able to decide what to do with his hands; they kept moving, one in his pocket, braced on his hip, raking through his hair, or dropped at his side. "Rodney," he said slowly, as serious as Rodney had ever seen him. "I need to know if he did something to you."

"What?" Rodney asked, blinking. "He didn't hurt anybody."

"That's not what I asked," Sheppard said, his eyes steady.

Rodney scrubbed his hand across his mouth. "I – " He paused, groping for the right words. "He didn't do anything I didn't want at the time."

He braced himself for – for what, he wasn't quite sure. Disappointment, maybe, or hurt, or disgust. None of those were immediately apparent; instead, Sheppard seemed to think about it for a minute, followed by a short, decisive nod.

"I don't know if you knew this or not, but every one of the clones had my memories," Sheppard said.

"I suspected as much," Rodney answered, shrugging a little. "It was the only way he could have passed himself off as you."

"I think," Sheppard said slowly, "I think that my memories might have prompted – that." He waved his hand, encompassing a multitude of sins.

Rodney snorted. "The one where you threw me off a balcony? Or the one when I shot you?"

"The one where I jerked off thinking about you every night for a week after I saw your ass in the locker room," Sheppard said quietly.

It was the last thing Rodney was expecting, but god help him, just the _thought_ left him wanting – wanting –

It must have shown on his face, because Sheppard went on, speaking very quickly. "I walked around with a hard-on half the base must have seen, and I didn't care, because all I could think about was just the _idea_ of fucking you, or getting down on my knees and sucking you off, and I kept sneaking back to my room in the middle of my shift and christ, I can't believe you didn't even _notice_ the way I looked at you – " Sheppard strode over and yanked Rodney out of his chair by his shirt, crushing their mouths together, kissing Rodney like his fucking life depended on it.

By this time Rodney was completely on board with the program. "You moron, I can't believe you never _said_ ," he said breathlessly, cursing as the button on Sheppard's pants refused to come undone from the power of his mind alone.

"Shut up already," Sheppard growled, and okay, this once Rodney was happy to follow orders, but it was tough to keep his mouth shut when John did things like dropping to his fucking knees. Or taking down Rodney's pants, or, jesus christ, sucking down Rodney's cock like a fucking lollipop.

"Fuck," Rodney said, clutching onto John's shoulders to stay upright. Sheppard rewarded him with a fist around the base of his cock, pumping in perfect time with his tongue, and Rodney dug his fingers into John's bony shoulders and swore a lot and came down John's throat.

He nearly fell over – in fact, he would have fallen over if John hadn't grabbed the back of his thigh with one hand, steadying him, hanging on while his orgasm finished playing havoc with his brain. Rodney looked down to judge exactly how he wanted to return the favor and discovered that John had beaten him to it; in fact, John was still pressing the heel of his hand to the wet spot in the front of his pants, his eyes closed and breathing heavily.

"You asshole," Rodney snapped, dragging John to his feet only to tumble him down onto the bed. He dropped down next to John and let his head fall onto the pillow.

"You can spank me next time," John mumbled.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "You should be so lucky," he said, but John was already asleep, and Rodney watched him for a minute before he followed. His last waking thought was, _Welcome home._


End file.
